


The Ballad of the Bard and the Moon

by Ravenheart



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Happy Ending, It's all about the YEARNING, Light Angst, M/M, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining, Tenderness, and gratuitous moon comparisons, but when this happens is up to you tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenheart/pseuds/Ravenheart
Summary: If the moon allowed it, Jaskier would call himself a worshipper for as long as he lived. And that, he guessed, was the problem. Because the moon could keep you company, but it couldn't worship back. It might give you direction, and you might even be blessed with its protection, but it would go its own way, whether you followed or stayed behind. Stubbornly determined to walk the night at its own pace, painting its own path.(Alternatively: Jaskier spends over 2k trying to figure out that he's in love with Geralt, and then he does something about it)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 297





	The Ballad of the Bard and the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Because these two have taken over my life, have this.

Jaskier sighed, lute quiet in hand and thoughts raging in his mind. They had fun, didn't they? They travelled from town to town, did some slaying and singing, singing and slaying, and then they moved on to the next village; new monsters, new ballads, new memories to hoard and treasure, to mold into something memorable that people might hold in their tongues and hearts for years to come. 

And if they did some bed-tumbling every now and then, well. That just racked up the fun and brought down the danger factor of at least one activity in their lives, right? All harmless. There was no reason to put an end to it, nor was there motive to crave more. No foolish force or feeling that should compel him to disturb the way of things with Geralt.

And yet.

He was used to varied and ever-changing company in bed. A lady over here, a barmaid over there, and maybe a baron in-between. All encounters always very pleasant and satisfying for all involved—except when the aftermath featured an ire-possessed husband rather than a sweet farewell kiss. But even the threat of enraged men didn't sour his bedding experience, not really, which was why he was having trouble understanding his struggle when it came to his unspoken arrangement with Geralt. Why complicate it? Why not accept their sporadic, fast-paced and need-driven encounters for what they were? Impersonal and convenient. A means to an end.

"Jaskier." Geralt's voice cut through his dilemma. "Eat your food."

"Right." He nodded, forcing himself to take a bite of the game his friend had procured for them that morning. It wasn’t the tastiest meal he’d ever had, but it sure beat starving.

They were sat along a creek, trees sparse enough to let the sun shine through and flirt with Geralt’s hair like a coy lover at dawn, flashes of silver and white making him almost ethereal-looking. _Need we have these thoughts right now, you think?_

He made his mind shift focus and appreciate the subtle music that surrounded them; the distant symphony of birds passing by, the gentle tickle of breeze between branches, the swishing of Roach’s tail as she kept flies at bay.

Sooner than he would have liked, however, his eyes strayed from his meal and fixed on Geralt once more. Like a sailor instinctively searching for the stars, so did Jaskier's body trail after its own wonder; a being not unlike the moon, silver and solid, willful and withdrawn. A moon that sometimes grew closer before retreating twice as far. 

If the moon allowed it, Jaskier would call himself a worshipper for as long as he lived. And that, he guessed, was the problem. Because the moon could keep you company, but it couldn't worship back. It might give you direction, and you might even be blessed with its protection, but it would go its own way, whether you followed or stayed behind. Stubbornly determined to walk the night at its own pace, painting its own path.

He shook himself a little, willing all the noise in his head to just _stop_. And then he realized that Geralt was looking back at him, and his mind went blissfully quiet, if only for a moment. 

Once the prolonged eye contact began to tug a little too strongly at his heart, he moved on to safer sights; strong arms, capable of lifting Jaskier's weight like the only effort would be to stop holding him, pressing him against the wall with hands that were carved on his skin for days after, echoing of hunger and—

"Not now, Jaskier." Geralt gave him an amused look, but he only blinked, startled.

"What?"

"I know that look," he said pointedly. "But we need to reach town by nightfall." He took a long drink from his wine before letting his eyes travel meaningfully down Jaskier's form and grunting, "Later."

 _Ah._ Geralt wasn't wrong, although he wasn't fully grasping the extent of Jaskier's attention. Not that he could be blamed; Jaskier himself was none the wiser to whatever convoluted thoughts were currently clouding his mind. Yet he knew the answer was within reach—he could almost taste it.

"You say later, but then you look at me like that." He pointed a finger at him. "You do not play fair."

"Hmm." A hint of a smile; a gift unconsciously given but gladly stored somewhere in Jaskier's chest. 

They went back to their food, and he did his best not to think about how their arrangement didn't work like that. Planning for sex was not a thing they did; it just happened. After a long day of slaying, or a frustrating evening of failing to turn deeds into ballads, it was then that they wordlessly reached for each other. Geralt's tacit promise held something more than pleasure: it carried novelty. _Change_.

But Jaskier wasn't thinking about that.

***

It was perhaps the quietest Jaskier had ever been while travelling with Geralt. While not a deliberate choice on his part, he felt like silence suited his mood at the moment, and so he spoke only sparingly. Not brooding—that was Geralt’s role to play in their dynamic—but distracted. He entertained himself with memories, indulging in echoes of their first meeting for a bit longer than necessary but unable to summon up any regret.

Halfway through their journey, however, Geralt's sideway glances started making him self-conscious. He ignored it for a while, but eventually it became too recurrent to let it slide.

"Eyes on the road, Geralt," he half-joked.

"Hmm."

"Don't _hmm_ me. I know speaking is one of your least favorite activities, right next to killing over the petty squabbles of men, but something is clearly bothering you." It didn't feel right to straight up say, " _If you keep looking at me, I'm going to start getting the wrong idea and assume—things.”_

"It's nothing." 

"Right." He could wait him out. “Nothing.”

Silence descended once again, hooves on soil marking the passing of time, colors arguing to take over the sky as night grew closer. Jaskier had about given up on Geralt speaking his mind when there was a gruff, “Jaskier.”

 _Got him._ "Yes, Geralt?"

"Can you…?" He looked up, but Geralt's eyes were fixed on the path ahead. He watched him frown, shaking his head as he dismissed the idea with a low, "Never mind."

"What is it?" He asked tentatively.

"Can you…?” He cleared his throat, tilting his head in that way that told Jaskier he was debating with himself.

“Yes?” He encouraged, keeping his voice equally low.

“Sing something." _Sing something._

_Oh._

_He_ — _He wants_ —

_Oh._

There was no mocking tone, no implication that it might have been a joke. In fact, Jaskier sensed that it had taken a lot for Geralt to make that request, if the hunched shoulders and averted gaze were anything to go by.

"Did you have something in mind?" He made a valiant effort to keep his voice steady. Geralt had _asked him to sing._ Deliberately. On purpose. Of his own volition.

"Anything."

_Anything._

"Anything it is," he jested, fingers nervous for a moment before they settled firmly and began to spell a sweet melody into the air.

As the words fell from his lips, soft and supple, he saw Geralt hide what could have only been classified as a smile. _The second of the day, if someone's keeping score._

And who wouldn't sing ballads to the moon, if in return it brightened your path even during the day, turning the sun into nothing but a flickering candle?

***

They reached the inn just as the day was taking its final breath, the full moon proud and bright in the darkening sky. For all that he'd happily indulged—although happy fell short in the face of what he’d felt— Geralt's request and filled the rest of their journey with song, he couldn't find it in himself to do the same as they settled down for dinner. He performed a few songs, yes, there was no scoffing at good coin, but once he was done and sat down across from Geralt to share their last meal of the day, he just—gravitated towards silence once more. He could feel assessing eyes on him, but he didn't acknowledge it.

He chewed slowly, dragging the meal until it could be stretched no more, and then made his way to their shared room, Geralt's looming presence close behind and the earlier promise suddenly echoing in his head.

As soon as the door was closed, Geralt put a hand on Jaskier's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

He turned, willing his face to give nothing away as he said, "Why would anything be wrong?"

He frowned, eyes scanning Jaskier's face for the answer he wasn't giving. "Jaskier."

"Never mind that." He waved a hand to dispel all lingering thought. "Nothing to bother you with."

"Hmm." 

"I don't want to talk about it." Geralt’s frown seemed to deepen at that, and Jaskier laughed despite himself. He amended, “I just meant I need a distraction from it.”

"Okay." He supposed that was enough of an explanation for Geralt, at least for the moment. Distraction was, after all, the main reason they’d started having sex in the first place.

Jaskier nodded once, ready to dispose of the layers of frustration he'd been carrying around all day. He trailed his fingers down Geralt's neck, then surged forward and brought their lips together. Usually, their kisses were all heat, eager to take and give and sear pleasure into flesh with sharp teeth and digging nails. Fast and easy and so incredibly _good_. And so that's how Jaskier approached it.

Yet it seemed that the longer they kissed, the more clothes they disposed of, the more frustrated he became. He licked into Geralt's mouth, unwilling to let go but still unable to find was he was looking for.

It eventually became clear that their arrangement wasn't doing its magic.

Jaskier wanted something _else_. Not more, not less, just—

A voice inside him wanted to scream the reason at him, let him see what was missing and make him do something about it. But he wasn't listening—not yet.

Abruptly, Geralt broke the kiss, hands hot on Jaskier's now naked hips. He shook his head a little, as if arguing with himself about something. "Jaskier—"

"You... don't want to?" He was so caught up in his head that he probably wasn't even making it enjoyable for Geralt. Maybe he should just step back and leave. He could get another room. Probably. Or sleep under the stars. Alone.

"I want to," he clarified, hands involuntarily bringing Jaskier's hips closer. "But you—" and he cut himself off, as if he wasn't quite sure how to articulate what was going on with him. "You're _off_."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, frustrated because he had what he wanted—Geralt already half-naked before him—and yet he didn't. "I—" He sighed, letting his eyes follow the lines of Geralt's face, bathed in moonlight, and stopping at his lips. Instead of kissing him, he raised a tentative hand and let his index finger ghost over his lower lip. It wasn't seductive, but he wasn't trying to be. He just wanted…

He wanted—

"Can I try something?" Jaskier asked, gaze flickering towards Geralt's to gauge his reaction.

"Yes." No doubt or hesitation. Trust, from a witcher. From Geralt. _Yes._

He let his finger leave those lips, and instead he brought both hands to Geralt's hair. He pushed it back gently, carding his fingers and letting his nails drag along his scalp. There was a sharp intake of breath, but he was unsure whether it was from Geralt or himself. He could distantly feel hands still on his hips, a solid and reassuring presence.

Jaskier kept going, left hand in Geralt's hair while the other slowly made its way to his shoulder and collarbone. He stopped there, then followed the same path with feather-light kisses instead. He tilted his head, reaching Geralt's neck, and hesitated. _You've made it this far; might as well see it through._ He left a single lingering kiss by his pulse point before burying his face there and just breathing. 

A gasp. 

An answering tremor down Geralt's spine.

He could feel all points of contact, heart beating so fast it might have been trying to escape and merge with Geralt’s.

His hand wandered, tracing the side of Geralt's chest and ribcage, making sure his fingertips memorized every inch, every curve and scar, as he felt it rise and fall. Once he got to his hip, he reached out and tentatively grabbed Geralt's hand. He rested his head against the warm and welcoming chest in front of him and looked down, watched himself spread Geralt's fingers to later intertwine them with his own. 

He sighed, impossibly content, and left a kiss right over his heart before finally meeting Geralt's eye. The openness he found almost stole the air from his lungs.

"Jaskier," Geralt whispered, and the hand still on his hip was suddenly gone, only to reappear a second later cupping his cheek.

"Should I stop?" It didn't seem like he had to, but he needed the reassurance all the same.

"Not unless you want to."

He allowed himself a smile; not the confident one he usually wore during sex, but a more private one. Quiet, but enough to be heard when you were so close.

"Kiss me," he told Geralt, hoping they were on the same page.

And they were.

Geralt moved slowly, his thumb brushing Jaskier's cheekbone before his lips stopped right a breath away. Jaskier almost closed the distance between them, felt his lips parting in anticipation, but ended up rubbing his nose slightly against Geralt's cheek before whispering, "Please," his breath echoing against his mouth.

And this time, something clicked. Everything had been slowed down, allowing him to feel the thousand things he'd been keeping from himself. Because perhaps he'd known, in a corner of his mind, that he could never allow sex with Geralt to be personal. He couldn't allow it to _mean_ something, or else it would mean everything.

And it did.

It did mean everything.

From a kiss, and a hand firmly holding his, he could tell that there was no going back. 

Some things just couldn't be unknown. 

A break to breathe, and—"Geralt."

Geralt opened his eyes, so impossibly bright, and Jaskier rested his forehead against his for a moment to summon the courage he'd need for the conversation. "Hmm?"

"Geralt, I—" He laughed nervously, hoping he wasn't about to do something he'd regret. "I need you to understand that the only way that we can keep doing this, now and in the future, is if—if you—"

Geralt waited, patient; the type of calm that could quell a raging sea.

"I know my passions tend to be fleeting and my lovers temporary, but you—" He shook his head. "There's nothing passing about this for me. I'm here, for as long as you want me." His voice lowered, uncertainty creeping in. "That is, if you want me at all."

"I do," he answered, gaze soft and wonderfully kind. "I wasn't built for words like you were, Jaskier, but I—" He grunted, fondness palpable in the air between them. "I think you’re a worthy travel companion. For as long as you choose to be."

_Oh._

Well, that was—

Yes. He quite liked the sound of that.

Jaskier wondered if people would believe the ballad of the bard who chose to worship the moon, and the night the moon showed that it worshipped him back.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sunoficarus on tumblr, if you want to drop by and say hi.


End file.
